Once Again
by Nickelbacklover
Summary: "No matter what, we will never be able to stop these things from happening again, Ryan. They always will happen. Even when we try to stop them." I said these things to him, a long time ago, but it seems like such a long time ago, even more so now... Because Joe is dead, but the cult he created is just getting started. Disclaimer: I just own my OC, Not The Following.
1. Piolt

Joe was dead. This was nothing but a simple fact. I watched as three people were leaving trying to hold back tears and weeps for their leader.

I had been watching them for weeks, and people that were regulars here were always disappearing. No doubt in my mind that they were cult members. Not that me noticing this mattered, it's not like I could arrest them and report it. I had lost my job a long time ago when they had discovered my drinking problem.

It could be helped. I stopped all the time, it when I had one to many that I couldn't stop. I started saying what was really on my mind, even pointed a gun at my skull once, saying I could end the thoughts. It's hard to not want to go, seeing what I saw. I became so numb to it… To the blood and the fact that people that had their lives taken from them were, once in fact, loved.

I missed the weeks when the blood actually bothered me, and how my nose would curl up when I smelt rotting bodies, burnt flesh, or other body fluids at crime scenes.

Ryan noticed the change in me first, said that these things should always bother me and that I needed to talk to someone if they weren't. Trust me; they always did bother me, just not to the emotional extent they used to.

I had a natural habit of burying things until the memories and mistakes pile over to the point I can't take it, I start dwelling on the fact that there never was, nor will there ever be a way, to stop these things from reoccurring.

Ryan stopped me from hurting myself Nemours times when I was drunk, even when he was tipsy he seems to hold onto his sanity.

Me…. I flat out always lost it.

I had woken up on his couch more than once when I was working, and like a good friend he would always ask me if I wanted to talk about it. And it would always be the same answer. And that answer was no.

The day they let me go and asked me to hand over my gun was the day I opened up to him.

_"It's not like we can really do anything Ryan… I realized that the moment I walked into my first crime scene… No one ever get a chance to stop it." I buried my face into my hands "My response is trying to drink those painful thoughts away…. It's a habit now… I'm not an alcoholic."_

_He shook his head "I know you're not an alcoholic. What's not true is that we can do something and we do. We give the murdered, and the families, peace and justice knowing it won't happen again."_

_I shook my head and looked up at him scoffing "But it does happen again Ryan. Or we wouldn't be sitting here right now talking about our-" I had to stop myself from saying jobs._

_I had been fired. I stood and looked at him "__**Your **__job." The words rolled off my tongue with bitterness that I wasn't sure I quite understood, and I honestly didn't want to. The harshness of my own voice was enough to make me snap back to reality and make me realize that I had changed, and Ryan wasn't going to say I had, but I could see it in his eyes._

_We both knew that this was it and what had been done had been done, and we both knew that there was no going back. Yet I could see it in his eyes that he knew I knew that I was never going to be the girl he once knew I was. Joe's murders had changed me. Even though he was captured, it wouldn't change the things I saw, and those girls wouldn't be brought back to life, nothing in my life or Ryan's would ever be the same again._

_"Shit happens Ryan. And no matter what we do to stop it, it will always happen __**Again**__."_

And my statement rang true all the way to the end. Even more so now, since they were dealing with a cult like Carrols. I don't think the FBI really knew how big this group really is. And how many people across the country is a part of it.

Then again, it's only a matter of time that they figure it out. Joe had it down to a science.

We caught Joe, he escaped, had his _again, _then we caught him, _again. _I told Ryan, there was never really stopping these _again's _and now I was righter than ever. Because what do you know, Joe escaped once more, and killed another, maybe more people, again.

Killing Joe just caused a pandemic, maybe not only in the U.S., but judging by how big his cult was, it could be across the world. A plague of the living, but only these people are infected with metal disorders and the common interest in killing and Edgar Allen Poe. They view Joe as a prophet or a god, and now he is gone and left a few to write what would be considered his Bible of things to do. Surely he spoke to his few people, surely he had a backup plan for the hero actually winning.

But hell you never know when you're dealing with sociopaths of any kind. It's hard to figure out the few that are rare in captivity.

I threw down a couple of bills onto the bar said my goodbyes and shoved the bills back into my pocket. All this shit was crazy; I wanted to end it a long time ago.

I had my chance, but I just had to be a goodie goodie and follow the rules. But that brings us almost right back to the beginning. _Wadda know? Shit does happen. Again, and again, and again… _


	2. Chapter 1

The sun hurt like hell, it always did. I never got drunk at the bars, I always came home, broke something out of anger, cried, then hunted down my whiskey while the music was blasting through my stereo, then I did the only thing I knew how to do when I was upset…

I drank.

I didn't just have a few either, I could manage to drain a couple of bottles before I got shitfaced and passed out. Last night was the same, I did what I did, can't remember half of it, and what's been done has been done.

This morning was different. Normally the sun just hurt like hell and seemed to scream "_Good morning to you, motherfucker._" But today, it burned. I felt like I might as well be on the sun, because looking at it felt like my eyes were roasting, along with the rest of me. I took this a sign of a very bad day, but then again, most of them are for me.

Can't say I'm not the most pessimistic person in the world. I slowly built up enough will power and strength to push myself up in a sitting position, grumbling as my head throbbed. The Aspirin was all the way in the kitchen. I groaned and stood in nothing but a white Tank top and underwear, strutting across the condo for anyone in the complex across the street to see if they wished to look. Not like I was much to look at, I never _thought_ so anyways.

Blond hair slightly tan skin and some freckles on my cheeks, I was all legs, something I hated. Not only that, I was still a barley fitting B-Cup, and I know damn well men don't find that attractive. But surgery for bigger boobs isn't on my agenda. I was rather thick, but toned, something I did admire was how physically active I was, and how it did make me look better than I thought I did.

I opened the cabinet and chocked down two aspirin and the fumbled around for a glass before the hose phone rang, I covered my ears and held my head that started throbbing at the sound and cussed as I picked up the phone. I don't ever remember a hangover this bad.

I pressed the phone against my ear and rubbed my hand over my face doing my best to sooth the pain then murmured slowly "Hello?"

"OH THANK _FUCK _YOU PICKED UP ASH." I didn't recognize the voice, but whoever it was knew my name, and I whispered "Who is this and why are you calling so damn early…"

"Its agent Weston, we haven't met yet but Hardy said to call you and to come to his place…" He paused and took in a shaky breath "Something bad has happened, Ash, or whoever you are, and apperntly your Hardy only hope at… doing something."

"Tell Ryan to go fuck himself, Mr. Weston. Ryan isn't worth my trouble, and I'm not worth his." I scoffed and hung up the phone, then continued searching for a glass for water, high hopes of going back to bed and sleeping the god awful hangover off somewhat.

I finally found a glass, and let myself relax somewhat as the throbbing only seemed to increase by the minute. Then the phone rang again. I picked it up and growled "What do you want."

"Ash, its Ryan."

I felt my whole body tense as I stood still, not able to form a single sentence. My jaw was clenched tightly. I said nothing.

"Ash, we need to get you somewhere safe, please you got to li-" He stopped and the was a long silence. He let out a sigh as if ridding himself of pain. Before speaking once more "Please don't make me drag you here…"

I stood there still shocked. He was hurt. By what, or who, I don't know. But it was more than physically, he was also in emotional distress. Why else would he call me?

I closed my eyes and felt my chest tighten before speaking through my teeth in a hushed voice, "Where exactly do you want me to go?"

"Just…. Meet me at the police station. Noon."

The line went dead. And my head was swimming with questions I dared not even ask myself.

_"You can't keep going on like this." He looked down at me with those accusing blue eyes, that somewhere deep down inside I knew I loved, but as the days went on I grew to hate them even more._

_"You didn't let me shoot him. He's our guy, he killed my sister, and you can't tell me how to live my life. I'm tired of the rules; cause thanks to you, two other girls had their eyes gouged out."_

_"Not following the rules is getting you into some pretty dark places."_

_I tensed the stiffly walked to a bookshelf and picked up a box filled with a journals from my past and dumped them on the floor "REMEMBER FINDING THESE RYAN? REMEMBER HOW YOU READ THEM ALL WHEN I WAS GONE?!"_

_He tensed and watched me as I picked up the black leather journal and there it at him and then hissed "Don't you __**dare**__ tell me that not following the rules is going to get me to dark places, when I'm already in the darkest place there is."_

_He dropped the journal and just turned as walked out._

_We didn't speak again._


	3. Chapter 2

_"Why do I have to come to the crime scenes again? I was hoping to be done with this… move on to a different case… Something."_

_He turned to look at my shook his head and kept walking. "We gotta find evidence here, he has to have left something behind for us to find him…"_

_"He never leaves anything. Didn't my sister's case prove that to you?"_

_I saw him tense and then relax, and I felt tears burning and threating to fall as I let out a chocked back cry before sniffling "I can't look at another girl Ryan… not now. Not yet._

It's been two years.

I don't even know what to do, or why I am doing this. But here I am, sitting in my bedroom, fiddling around with my old badge, not knowing what to feel.

Cause just like two years ago, I felt nothing. No pain, no sadness. It didn't even upset me that Ryan walked out the way he did. He had every single right to. I walked over to the box and pulled it off the shelf and fumbled through the journals, finally reaching the back one that caused me to lose a friend.

Somehow that friend managed to come back, called me back, and needs me.

Now I finally built up enough courage to ask _why._ Why did he need me now of all times, what happened for him to need me? Why did this seem like the beginning of the end?

_"Everyone close to me dies Ash, it's a curse."_

I shut the box of notebooks. Repeating the thought in my mind over and over. Everyone close to me dies.

_Everyone _close to me dies.

Everyone close to me _dies._

His death curse.

The thing that kept him away from me, and others. But why drag me into the equation now? Me and him were never that close. And I didn't mind, like him I didn't want anyone around; I wanted nothing but to be alone.

I stood and set the box on my bed, grabbing my phone and keys off my nightstand, still trying to ignore the 'whys' and 'how's', 'what's', and the 'ifs' that all kept popping into my head. I felt queasy all the sudden as my stomach lurched.

The cult wasn't gone. It wasn't over. He wanted me somewhere safe, because if they even linked me to his past because of this "Curse" he had, they would kill me. He did want to be responsible for another death due to his living and surviving after Joe had been killed.

He was afraid. That's why he called me. Because he knew I wasn't nor would I be. But now, unlike last night, I knew I had to be on guard. I looked over at the box and opened the lid again an rummaged through it.

Then I felt my fingers finally grasp the cold metal of the small pistol I had bought long ago. I took the clip out the shoved it back in, flipping the safety switch on. It was loaded. Hopefully I could still aim.

_"What the hell is this?"_

_Ryan looked at me "It's a gun."_

_"Why do I need it, I'm a trainee and I'm supposed to stay in office, like, all the time."_

_"Yeah well we are moving you out to the field a bit soon, here," He tossed me a badge and I caught it and examined it. My name picture…. Everything._

_"It's yours. Now come help us catch this killer."_

The irony. "Help us catch a killer, but here, take this gun in case you need to kill also." It was fucked up all the way around. But I went along with it anyways.

I never knew much about guns, the only one I knew about was the revolver I had in my dresser that my father gave me when I moved out. That was before he was killed. Ryan complained about his death curse, my dad was the only family I had.

_"I want you to have this Ash." He took down a box from the shelf as I sat my bag on the floor. "I never had to use it. But I got it when you were born to protect you… Just in case I ever had to." _

_"Why give it to me?" I stood there looking at him as he handed me the gun. I felt my body stiffen, I had never liked weapons of any kind. Guns had always made me tense._

_I could see he noticed this but he took my hand and placed it in it, looking at me. "I'm giving it to you to protect yourself. I got it to protect you, never had to. But you never know when you're going to have to fight for your life out there. It's the real world."_

_"Shouldn't you keep it to protect yourself?"_

_"I got it to protect you, and that's what I intend it to do. Not protect me."_

I should have forced him to keep it. It would have kept him from dying, but I just had to take it with me. And it had done nothing but make me hate myself for taking it. But something came over and I walked to my dresser and started tearing through the drawers like never before.

I _had _to find the damned thing. I had this feeling now, I might as well keep the gun on me, and maybe it would serve its purpose of protecting me. I ripped the top drawer out of the dresser and dumped all the clothes onto the floor. I felt along the edges for the knot in the wood, I knew it had to be in the secret compartment, and then I heard the clicking noise I had been waiting for. I felt myself relax, not even noticing how tense I was. The day's events had already taken its toll on me. Not only that, I had been taking my sweet time, my nightstand clock read one o'clock.

If Ryan was anything like I knew him two years ago, my ass was going to be chewed out. I lifted the bottom of the drawer out, revealing photo books, journals, and other knick knacks of my past life. Then the dull silver changer caught my eye, next to the box of ammunition I had been saving. I picked it up, loaded it, and shoved the gun in the front of my pants. I shoved the ammunition into my purse along with my other gun, and grabbed my jacket.

It kept getting harder to ignore the eerie feeling that kept washing over me every time I walked through that front door. Just seeing it made my stomach turn, but I locked it behind me, not even knowing that it might be the last time I ever saw the place I liked to consider home. Only because I didn't know that more than one person was going to need my saving, or that I was ever going to need saving myself.


	4. Chapter 3

_Note: I'm not one to write notes of any sorts in my stories, but I feel the need to. I know there hasn't been much action with the first few chapters of this story. I apologize and it is about to get much better. I'm trying to introduce the character and also reveal some of her past also, enough for the story to make sense. Reviews would be much appreciated, and if you find any errors within the writing, please tell me. My editing skills, I will admit, suck._

_Flame, Review, Follow, whatever suits you_

_-Nickelbacklover_

**Chapter 3**

I hadn't been in a police station since I was a teen; at least, that's what it felt like. I felt like I had been caught doing something stupid, and was going to get a scolding by the sheriff and be told not to do it again. I didn't have a since of belonging here, I was an outcast that was frowned upon, just like the teens that get walked through this very place sometimes.

I felt guilty, and sick. If anything I wanted to find the nearest trash can, when I walked in and saw all cuts on the FBI agents and regular police officers, my senses were heighted and I was on guard for anything and everything. What had happened to all of them.

"Relax Ash." I felt myself tense even more at the voice, and then before I could do anything I ran to the nearest trashcan and puked. I hung there shaking, not wanting to look again.

I couldn't stand the smell of blood, and the sight with the metallic smell made me start dry heaving over the trash can. My head was still pounding from the hangover, and my stomach lurching the way it was, made me want to focus on nothing but that. I hated the smell of this whole place, worse than any hangover.

I heard 'Get her some water!' along with 'Oh shits.' and 'what the fucks' as people gathered around me. I hated getting attention, and he knew it, cause I heard 'everyone, back off. Weston, get Ash outside.'

I felt strong arms heave me up off my crumpled knees and carry me back out the front door. The blond man sat me on a bench and looked at me and examined my eyes and I slapped his hand and flashlight away muttering a "Fuck you" as I rolled over and puked again.

"What the hell what that? Ryan said you might get queasy at the sight of blood, but not puke your brains out. Are you intoxicated?"

"It's called a hangover…"

"Ryan said you would probably be a smartass."

I wiped my mouth and growled "Ryan says a lot of things doesn't he Weston."

"Ooooo scary you know my name."

"Only cause Ryan said it."

Just then Ryan stepped outside, and I looked away.

_"GET HER OUT NOW! GET ASH OUT OF THE HOUSE!" I heard the voice to late. I already saw it. Her body dangling from the fan, splinters of wood sticking from her body, a pool of blood on the floor…_

_He took her eyes. He took my sisters eyes. Her beautiful brown eyes._

_The blood….. god the blood…._

"Weston give her this water, she probably won't talk or look at me until I change."

I saw the kid give him a funny look but he shrugged and took the water. I felt the cool air rush outside from the AC just beyond the door.

I sat there then looked at him "Well, what are you doing here?"

"Holding your water."

"Something tells me we will either be good friends or we are going to irritate the shit out of each other."

"Either or. Your choice Ash." He handed me my water and I took it hesitantly. Looking at the bottle then at 'Agent Weston'. I took the cap off then took a long drink of the water then spit, getting the taste of vomit out of my mouth as Weston crouched and looked at me. "They said you were known for your strong stomach… what happened?"

"Curious all the sudden?" I had to keep from snarling at him as I took sips of the water.

"How could I not be? You see a little blood then all the sudden you start barfing your brains out. Most people faint, you had to get sick. Why?"

"I thought Ryan would have told you."

"Was it your sister's death?" I cringed as soon as the words were spoken. He stopped and then muttered a inaudible apology as he stood up. "I know about all the people Joe has killed, and all who investigated the murders. You got quite a lead on him before Ryan did, and you were fired right after your sister's case. You tried to convince everyone Joe was the killer Becau-"

"Because of the women disappearing in his classes. All the girls had the hot's for him, he was a romantic, his murders fit his passion for Edgar Allen Poe, and I was stuck in the classroom where the girls were disappearing. My sister was my twin, you weren't there to see the look I got from him when I strolled into the room the next week. He apologized for my sister's 'death'."

He nodded "And that's when Ryan started following Joe."

"It's also when he fell in love with Claire, and when I told him to rot in hell." I felt my stomach turn again as Ryan stepped back outside looking at us.

He didn't speak; he just stood there, looking at me. He always looked angry; it was like he had forgotten to smile.

"Why are you still so bitter about the past Ash?" The first ten words he actually spoke to me in person in over two years. And he had to use his 'I'm already pissed off about something, and even though I really don't want you here, I need you' tone.

"Did you like reading my violent erotica journals, and digging into the secrets of my dark mind and past life?"

"No."

"Then why did you do it?"

"You still haven't answered my question Ash."

"I won't until you answer mine."

His jaw clenched and Weston stood there looking down before looking at us and pointing to the door "I'm just gonna…. Yeah." He turned and walked inside.

I sighed "What the hell am I doing here?"

Ryan tensed and then relaxed a little "We need your help."

"I needed yours two years ago, but look where I am now."

"Ash, Joe's cult is still active."

You. Don't. Say. What did he think I was? Stupid? I nodded and spoke "I'm well aware."

"Will you help us?"

"I'm not a FBI agent. It's not legal. "

"I'm going to get you your badge back."

I groaned, "You can't."

He nodded "We will." He cringed mid-sentence and grabbed his side.

"Why were you bleeding Ryan?"

This question made him flinch and look in more pain that me telling him to rot in hell ever would, he almost looked as if he was about to cry. But he stood up slowly; walking with a slight limp I just noticed and opened the door. "Come inside, I'll explain everything inside."


End file.
